Emotional Roller Coaster

I think I’ve eaten about a cup of Lay’s French Onion Dip, and nearly a whole bag of Old Dutch Rip-L-Chips.  The lays dip is not NEARLY as satisfying as the Old Dutch brand would be, but apparently that doesn’t stop me.

If you haven’t read my previous post, you don’t have to.  Suffice it to say that I’m going through a pretty difficult time in my life right now and some days are worse than others.  Today wasn’t supposed to be one of those days–I woke up feeling like I had made steady progress since the surgery on Friday, that I was built for joy and that it would all be sunshine and rainbows from here.  I was able to snuggle with Jeff last night and feel like our relationship would be okay, and that went pretty far towards my waking up in a good mood today.

But I was up at 3:30, stayed up until 4, slept in until 7, then went back to bed at 8:30.  I finally got up at 9:45am and I wanted to choose to have a good day.

Then my arms started aching–my triceps felt like I’d been doing extensions all night long.  My sides ached, like I’d been doing ab exercises for hours.  The top of my abdomen pulled like there wasn’t enough to reach from my sternum to my belly button.  And I had the claws and cramps digging in to my uterus.  In short–The physical side effects of my surgery were shouting at me to pipe down and stop trying to be happy.

I hung out at home for most of the morning.  It was great, really–Jeff made pancakes, which we had with fruit for breakfast.  We watched TV with the parents until it was time to actually meet up with Gloria and Mike, again. I’m built for joy, I’m  having a good day, there’s nothing that could possibly go wrong.  So we piled into the car, we drove out to the malt shop, and we got together with Mike and Gloria.

She was radiant.  Her belly has popped and she is carrying pregnancy beautifully.  She’s happy and her little one is healthy, and she’s excited for her baby shower coming up in just a couple weeks.

And I’m happy for her, truly I am, but all I could think about was how sore I still am; how the bruise on my arm, where the IV was inserted, has blossomed into an ugly mark that reminds me right now that I’m not pregnant anymore.  I saw the back of my hand and how grey the skin is from the bruising from another needle that was necessary for my surgery, and I just pulled in on myself.
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Conversation still flowed around me and I tried to stay light, but the truth is that I felt horrible and disconnected by the time we left.  Jeff could tell, but he couldn’t understand it, because I had been saying all morning how good I’m doing and how it’s going to be such a good day.  We had to go to the store afterwards, and I was irritated about it, and couldn’t really hide it.  So, when we got home, I said that I was tired and begged off to take a nap.  I laid in bed and googled “muscle pain after D&C” and “side effects of anesthesia” and read forum posts about women who have gone through what I’m going through.  I read that it was normal that I haven’t been able to go since Friday and that I should just drink lots of water to help with the bloating and discomfort, but that it can last for weeks.  I read that the muscle pain could be from the drugs used during the surgery that may have caused my muscles to seize before relaxing, or it could be from being moved while I was under.  I read that as long as I don’t have a fever, I pretty much just need to deal with it.

I was dealing with it, I was on the edges of sleep when a friend of a friend called about the baby shower.  She’d been travelling for two weeks, and drama this, yadda that.  “I don’t care,” I interrupted.  “If you want to help plan, be there on Saturday, otherwise, I don’t care.”

That’s not me, that’s not who I am, and she at least knows me well enough to know that, so she snapped out of her reverie and asked what’s wrong.  And I confessed to her, this woman that I don’t even know, that seeing one of my friends so happy has absolutely ruined my day and I don’t know how I’m going to plan a baby shower for her, feeling the way that I do.  So I cried, and I apologized, and I asked her if she could please be there on Saturday to take some of the responsibility from me, because I can’t guarantee that I’ll be any good at celebrating someone else’s pregnancy when I’m still very much mourning the loss of my own.  And I felt so guilty for it, so terrible for feeling sorry for myself, and the negative spiral continued.  She had plans to be out of town on Saturday, but hearing what I’m going through, she promised to be there.  She said that I could still come help celebrate my friend’s baby, and that everyone would understand if I had to quietly leave if it were too much.  I still have a couple weeks to figure it out…

I hate that things can’t just magically go back to the way they were before I even found out that I was pregnant.  I wish that this could just be my normal monthly cycle and not a medically necessary discomfort that I have to confront with all of my emotions.  I hate that there are good days mixed with the bad because I want to just move on and forget that any of this has ever happened–but having a bad day or a bad moment just reminds me that it’s true.

And so with all of this baggage left over from the weekend, I’m going to head into work tomorrow.. with my ugly bruise, and my heavy heart, and I’m going to try to pretend that everything is okay and that I’m not actually going to fall apart at any minute if someone says or does the wrong thing.

By the grace of all that’s good, I really hope that I can have a good day tomorrow, and not feel the weight of guilt, and sadness, and discomfort, when I have to look my colleagues in the eye and deal with their pity.  With all that I have, I hope I can be strong enough to just not cry at work.

Wibbly Wobbly

wibbly wobbly timey wimey

The Doctor:  People assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect, but *actually* from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint – it’s more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly… time-y wimey… stuff.

[spoiler] If you are sensitive to the subject of miscarriage, for your own sake, read no further.

Gotta dash. Things happening. Well, four things. Well, four things and a lizard.

Continue reading

An ode to Gloria: the kindest friend

A while back, when I took a trip to Montana, I posted on Facebook how important it is to tell your family that you love them.  My friend Eli turned it into a speech and convinced me to tell my friends, too.  Usually it goes unspoken, or said in passing, but I take one of my friends for granted, and I had a very hard conversation with her earlier this week that could’ve changed the course of our friendship.  But, you see, Glo is better than that, and so this post is dedicated to her.

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This is my friend, Gloria. She’s going to be a mom soon, and her life is probably flipping up side down. She’s so very excited, and I can’t be happier for her and her husband.

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Me and Gloria have been friends since high school. Back then, I was friends with her now-husband, Mike, and so Gloria and I were in the same circles.  Mike and I were dirty minded dorks, but I always just remember Glo being sweet and funny. She was never the type to get into any trouble.

She’s still not.  We used to be roommates, and at the time, I think I underestimated how good of a friend she was. It took a few impromptu parties, many walks to the gas station, getting snowed in, and watching lots of “So You Think You Can Dance” before I understood that she’s a keeper.  I made a lot of happy memories when me and Jeff lived with Gloria and Mike.

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Somewhere along the line, she decided that I was a keeper too.  She shares her life with me, the good news and the bad. She comes over for game nights and invites us out to her place, too. She’s kind, generous, loyal, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her angry.  We don’t always see eye to eye, but she puts up with me and my over-the-top-ness without ever making me feel bad.  I don’t know if I can say the same for her.

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I’m judgmental sometimes, and opinionated, and I think Gloria has suffered through those qualities of mine.  She must see something more to me than my flaws, and I can’t thank her enough for it.  When I didn’t have any friends in the world, I still had her.

I’ve been trying to be a better friend over the past few years, and I hope she knows that I don’t mean to take her for granted, and that I won’t any more.

Gloria, you’re a great friend, with so much patience. I am lucky to know you, and I hope that never changes.   Thank you for being you.

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9/11 Memorial Museum

The 9/11 Memorial and museum were heavy, and somber.  In this case, I’m going to let the pictures speak for themselves. 

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I’ll be honest, I didn’t post some of the more traumatic scenes from the memorial. I was in tears a few times. As an American, though, and as someone who lived through that moment in time, I felt it was necessary to go and to honor those that were impacted personally by the tragedies of that day.

Live from New York City, it’s MegsFitness!

(Cheers, applause)
Hello hello, and welcome to my latest blog post. I am writing to you via mobile from Shakespeare’s garden in central park, where it’s almost easy to forget that there are millions of people here.

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I took the subway to central park because my hotel decided it was a great idea to do a fire alarm test this morning.  The sound wasn’t deafening or overly obnoxious, but it was persistent and played at irregular intervals.

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The same could be said for the city. It is pulsing and vibrant, pushy, and smelly, but it’s also hypnotic and alive.  I can’t shift my gaze without seeing something creative. The towering skyscrapers, the glowing ads, street artists, vendors, museums, theaters–everywhere!!

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I’ve gone out every day since we arrived, taking in all of the sights and sounds of the city. After the first day, I was so sore!  In fact, I went to set up a humidifier and ended up throwing out my back. :(

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Luckily, is feeling better today. :D
My throat has been hurting, though. It’s better when I’m not at the hotel, so I think there’s an irritant there…

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The first morning that I was here, I bought breakfast for myself.  I made the mistake of actually going to the restaurant at the hotel… This is what $40 got me:

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A few eggs and toast. I was so frustrated… It was delicious, but not $40 worth of delicious.  After that, I requested a mini fridge from the concierge and found a grocery store. We had nuts, yogurt, and hummus around so that we wouldn’t have to do that again.  Jeff has been getting meals as part of his conference, too, so we’ve been saving those left overs.

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Yesterday, we saw a display of historic children’s literature at the new York public library. It even includes Christopher Robin’s stuffed toys: Kanga, Eyore, Pooh, Tigger, and Piglet.

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The section that I found most interesting was the section on banned books and the history behind them.  I had no idea that Anne Frank’s diary hadbeen scrubbed of “impurities.”. It’s very fascinating.

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Anyway.. my feet are rested and my phone is hot. I think that I’ll continue my journey through central park, and write more later.

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“Tell me you love me!”

I am pretty much on cloud nine at the moment.  When I went to process the vehicle registration renewal for one of our vehicles, the DMV website gave me an error saying that registrations that are overdue cannot be processed online.  Given that we had never even received a renewal notice nor had we received any information about the registration being past due, I decided that the website was full of it.  Our vehicle had a ’14 sticker on it, and I was a week away from the due date when I tried to apply.

I got on the phone right away with the DMV… This is what I do for a living–I resolve weird issues related to the administration of vehicles, so I was in my zone.  The woman at the DMV insisted that the vehicle hadn’t been registered since 2012 and that the tags were expired by almost a year.  She requested that we pay $363.00 for last year’s renewal and an additional $309.00 for this year’s renewal.  Now–we’ve been saving up for this year’s renewal, but there’s no way in the world I’m prepared to pay an EXTRA $363.00!  I may or may not have deadpanned and declared to the agent “I’m not paying that. There’s no way in the world!”

I asked how to dispute it, and she asked that I verify the sticker number, so that they could work through it.  Well–I had Jeff send me the photo, and lo and behold, the wrong sticker was on the vehicle.  After the 6 digit sticker number is the vehicle license plate number and this one did not match our plate number.  But I meant it when I told the DMV I’m not paying it… I called the dealer next and asked to speak with a title clerk.  The thing is, we bought our vehicle last July and these tags expire this July–it should’ve been noted in the inspection or during the title and licensing of this vehicle that the registration was due.  The great thing is, they were as wonderful to work with on this issue as they were when we were buying our vehicle.  I’ll definitely recommend them for your car buying needs.  I’m even going to write them a nice review on Yelp!

After researching it, the dealer determined that the previous owner of the vehicle put the wrong sticker on the vehicle and offered to send us to a check to cover the cost of last year’s renewal.  Hallelujah!

It’s times like these when I am able to take a snarl of a mess and resolve it satisfactorily that I turn to Jeff and tell him “Now, tell me you love me,” with a smug grin on my face ;)

Cityscape at The Paint Pub

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I finally celebrated my birthday with friends.  :) My birthday was back on July 6th and I knew I wanted to go to the Paint Pub.  The shop sets up canvasses and paint, then leads a class in painting one specific thing.  The one I was really interested in was a cityscape of Minneapolis by way of The Stone Arch Bridge. 

When I got there, I was greeted by a lovely and chipper host who got me all set up at my work station.  The canvas and the easel were already set up, and the paint provided.  While I waited for the class to fill, I browsed a cute little boutique and considered other paintings I could do in the future.

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Towards the back, they had snacks and entrees available, along with wine, beer, and soft drinks.  For myself, I ordered a cheese tray and some ginger ale. There was a woman across from me, though, that ordered a panini that smelled delicious.  She was drinking white wine.

Our instructor began the class with a warm welcome and assured us that we’d hate our paintings at first, but to trust the process.  She said that we’re staring at it up close, so all we’d see is what we thought was wrong, but if we’d take a moment to step back and appreciate it as a whole, that we’d love pour paintings by the end.

It sounded, actually, like sage advice: if you’re looking at something so close that all you can see are the flaws, step back, and look at it from a distance to appreciate it as a whole.  I could definitely see this applying to a few people I know…

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As the class carried on, we were walked through exactly what to do. Everyone had their own perspectives and I heard a lot of people worry over how poorly they were doing.  I made it a point to be amiable, because I love art, and if someone else can discover a passion for it, they should. Far be it for me or anyone else to say someone isn’t good enough. There was a poor girl there, though, who was raising her arm with concerns and questions after every instruction.  She seemed really uncomfortable with the whole process.  Perhaps more wine would’ve helped. ;)

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Even though this one was pretty basic and rudimentary, it was just the kick start that I needed to get me painting again.  I’m thinking about whether I want to do a figure painting, a landscape, or a still life.  I took some photos of sunflowers, though, and I really enjoy depicting them.

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The class wrapped up around 9 and we all had our photos taken with our paintings. They all had different feelings, just like the personalities of the artists. I was glad to have shared the experience with friends :D

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